


One For the Other

by combefeyrac



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Kili still has a slight crush on Tauriel, Love-Triangle Erasure, Minor Detail Changes Whole Outcome, Multi, Prisoner of War, Self-Sacrifice, but that's it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combefeyrac/pseuds/combefeyrac
Summary: A look at how the events of Ravenhill would have unfolded had Kili been armed with his usual bow instead of just a sword. Almost a fix-it fic, except the only thing that gets fixed is the fact that the brothers live to see another day. Whether they manage to do so without a world of pain, well... that's not for me to spoil.
Relationships: Fíli & Kíli (Tolkien)
Kudos: 7





	1. The Black-Haired Archer

**Author's Note:**

> I want to update this weekly, and I will do my damndest to do so. I have another fic that I'm trying to do weekly updates as well as school to keep up with, so apologies if I'm not on time. I'm also well aware I'm late to the game with Hobbit fics, but quarantine has me revisiting all my old obsessions. So, if even one person reads this, I'd love to see what you think. Yes - I have the story planned out, but I'm more than open to suggestions :)

“This is a trap,” Thorin whispered, his voice laden with dread.

Bilbo had reached them none too soon with a frantic warning of the Gundabad army. If the orcs weren’t already swarming the watchtower, it would only be a matter of minutes before Ravenhill was surrounded, over a hundred orcs to one. This had been Azog’s plan all along. There was no choice but to retreat, as even the King and his three mightiest warriors had no chance against a whole army. But that was not what laid heaviest on Thorin’s shoulders, for there were not three dwarves at his side, only Dwalin. The brothers he’d sent to scout the high tower, which was to be flooded with orcs long before a warning would reach them. Thorin felt his blood run cold as he realized the fate to which he’d condemned his nephews, his only heirs.

“Find Fíli and Kíli,” he demanded of Dwalin. “Call them back!”

Dwalin made off down the steps with Thorin steady behind, but they’d taken only a few steps before they’d heard it. Thorin turned his gaze to the watchtower in horror, watching the halls light up with a sickening orange glow. The drums had begun to sound. It was too late.

The two dwarves and Bilbo all rushed to the parapet as Azog and his army marched out of the fog atop the watchtower, dragging Fíli in tow. Thorin instinctively lunged forward, but they were all helpless save to watch events unfold from afar.

Azog swung Fíli over the edge of the tower, dangling him above the wasteland below, like a sacrifice. It _was_ a sacrifice, Thorin realized. The three of them could only look on in anguish at the Prince of Erebor, to be gutted before their eyes.

_“This one dies first!”_ Azog roared in the ugly tongue of his kin. _“Then the brother, then you, Oakenshield.”_ He pulled Fíli in closer, near touching him with jagged edge of his spear. _“You will die last.”_

“Go,” Fíli choked out. The look on his face was one of pure desperation, though none could see but the hobbit.

Azog wrenched his arm back, prepared to strike, when something happened that none of them expected. Kíli, having ventured to the lower levels of the tower, had evaded capture once Azog’s army had found his brother. Save for a few who still roamed on guard, most followed their leader to the tower, to see firsthand the unraveling of the line of Durin. Kíli wouldn’t take this opportunity for granted. The second he’d heard the rotten bellows of the orc leader, Kíli had sheathed his sword, drawing instead his bow. There was no time to climb the tower, he knew, but Azog would not murder his brother without a fight.

Kíli carefully stepped out of the doorway he’d been hiding in, eyes glued to Fíli all the while. He was aware that there were orcs around every corner, and getting caught would not only cost him his life, but the opportunity to save his brother. He quietly drew an arrow and aimed for the tower, cursing under his breath as he realized didn’t have the angle to hit Azog without stepping out a few more feet, where he’d be spotted almost instantly.

“Go,” he’d heard Fíli yell. There was no time. Kíli blindly ran out from his doorway, well onto the frozen landscape in full view of the tower. He held his breath, and let loose his arrow.

A distorted scream filled the air, but Kíli could not look up to see what was unfolding. A group of orcs had been waiting in the wings and charged him the second he’d run from the hall, and the dwarf barely had time to draw his sword before they overwhelmed him.

Across the frozen falls, Thorin looked on in awestruck horror. Had Fíli not been in such imminent danger, the look on Thorin’s face would have been one of pride, for Kíli’s arrow had found its target. It had sailed up and lodged itself in Azog’s right eye, blinding him. The orc wailed in agony, and instinctively reached up to grab at his maimed face. He dropped the dwarf prince, and stumbled back into his ranks, to be led away. 

“No, FÍLI!” Thorin yelled. Azog had taken a step back before he’d let go, and it was those precious few inches that saved Fíli from a fatal drop. He hit the rough edge of the cliff with a wince, but there was nothing to grab onto as he slid off. This was it. He could see now his brother, fighting off 4 or 5 orcs, and it became clear why he’d been dropped. He quickly prayed that Kíli would know his brother was doomed, be it Azog or the fall to kill him. There was no time even to shut his eyes before he felt a sharp pain, and suddenly he wasn’t falling anymore - his tunic sleeve had snagged on the jagged cliff face.

Fíli looked up in awe at his right arm, the searing pain indicative that it was not simply his tunic that saved his fall. His arm was being shredded, slowly, as the weight of his body dragged him down, sending the piece of rock that held him up further towards bone. He may be alive, but what to do now? He had fallen just far enough that he could not be reached from the top of the tower, and was still miles above the ground below. But Azog’s troops would not be delayed with their leader for long. If he stayed hanging on the cliff face, he was nothing more than a sitting duck, target practice for goblin archers.

Meanwhile, Thorin and Dwalin were already on the move. They’d instructed Bilbo to find any help he could, and he’d disappeared (quite literally) to do so. The dwarves ran across the ice towards Kíli, who was holding his own for the moment, but for every orc he killed, there was another to take its place. Kíli hadn’t been able to see where his arrow landed, but a quick glance up at the watchtower told him whatever he’d hit, it had worked. Fíli mightn’t be out of the woods, but he was breathing, that’s all that mattered.

“Thorin!” Kíli called out as him and Dwalin approached. The two elders took the heat off the younger, giving him a second to catch his breath among the seemingly non-stop stream of orcs.

“We have to help him,” Kíli yelled over the fighting. He stuck his sword through the face of an orc, decapitating another as he pulled it out.

“He’s hanging by a thread, Uncle, if he falls-”

“I know, Kíli!” Thorin buried the length of his sword into an orc’s chest, managing to spear another behind. “There is no way to reach him from the top of the cliff nor bottom. We have to think of something else.”

Fíli heard the distinct tear of fabric as he slid further down the rock face. The pain in his arm was settling in now, making him sweat and sending waves of it to his core with every inch he moved. He tried to swing his left arm up, to grab ahold of anything, but there was no leverage without something to hook his feet on, and the pain was too great to keep trying.

“Kíli,” he cried weakly, but the brother did not hear.

Down below, Dwalin had just slain the last of the orc mercs, for the moment. They had no time to waste. Led by Thorin, the three hastened up the staircase to the top of the watchtower, keeping an ear out for any more orcs.

They made it to the top with little incident, a couple stragglers here and there that they quickly took care of. But they could not let their guard down. The drums were not far off in the distance. Their leader may have been defeated, but the army remained. What the dwarves did not see, in their rush to save their own, was that Azog was not the only leader they need worry about.

Kíli was the first to the top, running immediately to the edge and peering over to ensure Fíli hadn’t fallen. Kíli felt his mouth go dry – his brother was nowhere to be seen.

“Fíli! FÍLI!” he cried, though he quickly realized that the ground below was scattered only with orc corpses.

“Brother!” Fíli called back weakly, but Kíli could hear him loud and clear.

Kíli got down then on his stomach to see further over, and sure enough, Fíli was there, hanging by the rock that impaled his tunic. Had it been a lighter color, Kíli would have noticed the rock had impaled more than just his tunic, as the entire sleeve was soaked in blood. Fíli had long since begun to feel dizzy, but he struggled to keep his wits about him, should he have to dodge any arrows.

Kíli felt his stomach knot at the realization of _how_ far down Fíli had fallen. Even if all three of them were lowered in a line down the cliff, they still wouldn’t reach him.

“Fíli, we’re coming to get you, I just… I, I’ll be back in a second!” Kíli scrambled up off the ground and ran to Thorin, who stood with Dwalin looking out at the approaching army.

“Thorin, he’s too far down,” he explained. “None of us can reach him, and he can’t climb up.”

“Some rope then, laddie,” Dwalin said.

“I thought so too, but does anyone actually have any?”

Thorin turned and started towards the cliff. “There’s no time – that army will be on us in no more than a few minutes. I will climb down and drag him up if I have to.”

“It’s too dangerous!” Kíli protested, and it was then he spotted the mechanical flag of Azog. “Thorin, wait! Look!”

When Thorin stopped, Kíli had already long shot off towards the flags, sword drawn. _Of course,_ he thought. “Dwalin! Follow Kíli. I don’t want another ambush.”

“Aye, Thorin!” Thorin continued to the cliff then, if nothing else to make sure Fíli was still there. He encountered the same scare as Kíli before he shuffled forward, and caught a glimpse of Fíli’s tunic flapping in the wind.

“Fíli,” he called out, “are you hurt?”

“No, I’m-” but Fíli was cut off with a scream as the fabric ripped further, sending the rock an inch deeper through his arm. Another tear, and he’d truly be impaled.

“Fíli!”

Fíli groaned, trying to steady his breathing. Sweat was dripping from his brow, despite the cold. “I’m fine, Thorin, just- _ngh,_ my arm.”

Meanwhile, Kíli had sliced through the rope at the base of the flag, and was now struggling to pull the rest of it down. It was tied fast to one of the pulley mechanisms.

“Dwalin! Help me pull!” Kíli gave another grunt of effort, but the rope held steady. Dwalin was not long catching up to him, and clasped his hands around the length of rope just below Kíli’s.

“3… 2… and pull!” The two dwarves gave a massive heave, and the pulley creaked. They heard a snap, but it was not enough to send the length down to the ground.

“Again!” Kíli yelled frantically. The drums were fast approaching, the second wave of orcs would be on top of them in minutes. Let alone Fíli, they’d all be doomed.

“And, heave!” There were multiple snaps this time, as the mechanism gave in to the force and came toppling down to the ground, along with the rope. They could see now it was plenty long enough to reach Fíli, something Kíli had briefly worried about.

“Quick, quick,” he instructed, “grab the pulley. Don’t untie it, he might have an easier time grabbing ahold of it than the rope.” Dwalin snapped the pulley from the main piece that had fallen while Kíli gathered the length of rope as quickly as he could, then the two were running back towards the cliff.

“Thorin, catch!” yelled Dwalin, as he threw the wooden pulley. Thorin caught it in both hands, and wasted no time in lowering it down to his nephew.

“Fíli! Grab ahold of this, if you can!” Thorin called, then remembering what Fíli had said, “Is your arm well enough to hang on?”

Fíli looked up at his arm, slowly soaking his sleeve with blood as it ran up his bicep, coating his chest. He winced as he moved his fingers, the thought of having to rip his arm off the rock making him nearly black out. Still, he gritted his teeth as he saw the pulley approach.

“It’s gonna have to be,” he replied, and grabbed the block of wood with his left hand. It was wide enough to stand on, with a foot on either side, so he let it drop further down until he stood on it. The sweet relief of not having the weight of his whole body dragging the rock through his arm was short-lived, as Thorin lowered the rope further, unable to really see Fíli.

Fíli gasped when the wood left his feet, the pain returning tenfold. “Pull it up!” he cried, “Pull it back up!” Thorin obeyed and soon the weight was off his arm once again.

“Dwalin, Kíli,” Thorin beckoned. “Grab the rope, and pull when I say.” He peered back over the cliff, straining his neck to try to glimpse Fíli, with no luck.

“Fíli! We’re going to start pulling!” He turned towards the dwarves behind him, and nodded. The three began to pull, but quickly had to stop at Fíli’s agonizing scream.

“Wait, wait!” he cried, looking at his arm. The sudden pull had yanked him upwards, but had done nothing for the rock embedded in his arm. It had simply twisted within the wound, going no deeper, but not coming out, either.

“Brother, we have to hurry,” said Kíli, his heart pounding in his ears in time with the beat of the drums behind him. Ever closer they inched.

Fíli bit down on his lip, and with all his remaining strength, tried to wrench his arm from the rock. But all he managed to “wrench” was a guttural howl from his own throat as the rock ripped at his muscle, unwilling to move. Fíli took a few deep breaths, blinking the black away from the edges of his vision. He could vaguely hear their voices calling to him, Thorin and Kíli most prominently. His head swam as he realized what had to happen.

“Thorin,” he called weakly, “my arm is caught. You have to pull, as hard as you can.”

“Fíli, are you sure?”

“Thorin,” Dwalin said warily, “it hardly matters if the boy is sure. Hundreds of orcs’ll be over the wall any second now.”

Thorin was about to speak before Fíli called up over the cliff again. “I’m going to scream, but you can’t stop this time,” he explained. “Just pull.”

Thorin tightened his grip on the rope, knowing he was about to cause pain to Fíli the likes of which he mightn’t have felt before in his life. It hurt him, but the knowledge of what the orcs would do to him hurt more. He nodded again at the dwarves behind him, and the three pulled with all the might of an army.

Fíli hadn’t lied, and his agonized screams sent shivers to Kíli’s core. It didn’t feel right to be the reason behind his brother’s pain, no matter the reason. Still, he knew it was the only way, and kept pulling despite the tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. He feared the incoming army more than any trial they’d encountered yet, but he feared his brother’s death more.

“He’s still caught!” Thorin yelled, but as quickly as the words left his mouth, the resistance in the rope lessened greatly, with a great and terrible cry from Fíli. Whatever he’d been caught on, he was no longer, and the dwarves pulled him the rest of the way up with ease.

Kíli felt the relief wash over him like a wave once Fíli’s head emerged from the edge of the cliff. His eyes were screwed tightly shut in pain, but he was alive. Thorin let go of the rope to grab Fíli’s arm, the one that hadn’t been torn to shreds. Once Kíli was sure Thorin had a grip, he too dropped the length and rushed to help his brother over the edge.

“Quickly, brother, quickly,” he whispered, as if being quiet would save them now. Kíli reached down for Fíli’s right shoulder, and was met with a yelp as he jerked away.

“Oh,” he winced, “right.” Thorin hauled Fíli up by his left arm, Kíli opting to grab the back of his armour instead, and the two of them managed to pull him up over the cliff and onto solid ground. But there was no time to rest, not even for a moment.

“Come on,” Thorin said, pulling his nephew off the ground. “We have to go, now.” His command was none too soon, either, as the first ranks of orcs were starting to catapult themselves over the wall, heading straight towards them.

“Kíli, take your brother and go!” Thorin thrust Fíli towards Kíli, turning towards the incoming orcs. “Get yourselves to safety!” Thorin ran then to catch up with Dwalin, who had already begun taking on the first orcs to cross the wall.

“Come on, _nadad,”_ he said, hoisting one of Fíli’s arms over his shoulder. He could see now the blood freely dripping from Fíli’s sleeve, and he loathed to think of how much was soaked into the black tunic. Fíli was deathly white, and hardly responsive. Kíli glanced one last time towards his uncle and Dwalin, and headed down the staircase.

They fought harder than they had in the entire battle yet, but it wasn’t long before the two elder dwarves found themselves overwhelmed, and had to follow the younger two down the stairs. Retreat never felt good, but it was necessary. Thorin called out to Dwalin, who beheaded one last orc before following the King down the stairs. The sight they’d be met with on the landing would forever be burned into Thorin’s mind.

There, on the landing just below the height of the watchtower, was Bolg, leader of the Gundabad orcs, surrounded by his soldiers. They had all but forgotten about him, and a pity that was indeed as Thorin looked on at his nephews in horror.

On the ground by the lower staircase lay Fíli, dead or dying, Thorin could not tell. He was pale as the snow on the ground, and still as a corpse. Kíli stood still as a statue in front of Bolg, who held an orcish machete to his throat. _Too close,_ Thorin thought, seeing a trickle of blood already running down his neck.

_“Take one step,”_ Bolg threatened in that horrid language, _“and I spill every drop of his filthy blood.”_

“Thorin, take Fíli,” Kíli choked out. Bolg tightened his grip on Kíli’s shoulder and pressed in harder with his blade, bringing another rivulet of blood.

_“This one goes back to Azog”_ , he growled, backing up towards the northern stairway. _“He’ll await your arrival, to retrieve what’s yours-”_ he gave Kíli a shake, _“-if there’s anything left of him to take!”_ He laughed wickedly, the sound sending shivers down Thorin’s spine.

Kíli looked Thorin in the eyes and gave him a subtle nod. It pained him to go so willingly, but it was that, or death for them all. That nod was all Thorin needed, so he stood steadfast by the southern staircase, by Fíli, praying Kíli understood that they would be back for him, with a revenge a hundred times that of whatever pain they’d inflict upon him. He’d even had to stay Dwalin, who, when Bolg started to back up with Kíli in tow, had tried to lunge forward.

_“Spare Oakenshield,”_ Bolg ordered of the orcs on the landing. _“Kill the others.”_ With that, he dragged a limp Kíli down the stairs.

Thorin rushed to his nephew’s side immediately, scooping him up. He glanced back at Dwalin, who didn’t waste the time and breath to tell him to take Fíli and run, he’d hold them off. Thorin understood and was already halfway down the stairs before the first orcs even reached Dwalin.

  


They made it to the bottom of the watchtower, but carrying Fíli all the way had taken its toll. He may’ve been young, but he was still a grown dwarf – a heavily armored one, at that. Thorin took a second to rest just before the falls and sat Fíli up against a nearby boulder. He shook him lightly, aware of the blood slowly pooling beneath the dwarf’s sleeve.

“Fíli,” Thorin urged. “Fíli, are you there, at all?”

Fíli blinked lazily and made a small grunt of acknowledgment, lulling his head to one side. 

“Fíli,” Thorin insisted. “I can’t carry you all the way back to Erebor. I need you on your feet.”

Fíli opened his eyes a little more then, seemingly more aware of his surroundings. “‘s Kíli?” he slurred.

Thorin felt a pang of regret in his heart. “He’s… fighting off the orcs, with Dwalin, he wasn’t strong enough to carry you,” Thorin lied. “But neither am I, and we need to go. Now.”

Thorin, not waiting for a reply, picked his nephew up off the ground and slung his good arm around his neck, setting off across the falls. The younger dwarf put up no fight, but the pain drew noises from him with every jostle. The blood was flowing freely now, making him dizzier by the step and leaving an unmistakable trail behind them on the ice. At the very least he wasn’t so much of a dead weight now, even if his feet ended up dragging more than they walked. Halfway across the falls Dwalin caught up with them too, having fended off as many orcs as he could alone. They’d have to quicken their pace now, so they took turns carrying Fíli while the other kept an eye out for any attackers. They were lucky that the dwarf wasn’t too heavy, or they’d have had more trouble keeping distance between them and the Gundabad army.

As the reached the end of the falls, they were met by Legolas, whom Bilbo had found and told of the watchtower predicament. He had ridden up to Ravenhill as quickly as he could along with two other elves, each riding their own horse until they reached Thorin and Dwalin. Then, one of them climbed off his horse and handed the reigns to Thorin, hopping up to ride with the other elf. At that moment it seemed all quarrel between dwarves and elves were put aside in Thorin’s head, and with Legolas’s help, he hoisted Fíli up onto the elf’s horse.

“I will ride with him back to Dale,” Legolas explained, “the men of Laketown along with my people have set up camp there. He will be looked after.”

Both dwarves nodded their approval.

“The hobbit told me you were four – where is the brother?” the elf asked, looking around.

Thorin stared ahead indignantly. “He’s been taken by Bolg, to Azog. Prisoner.” He sighed, trying to maintain his composure. “At least it means he’s alive, for now, and they’ll keep him that way as a means of drawing me in.”

Legolas’s expression was grim, but not one of judgement. That kind of choice was not one he was wholly unfamiliar with, he recalled in dismay.

“Return to Erebor,” Legolas said, after a bout of silence. “Gather your armies, gather your strength.” He turned now towards Dale. “Should you desire it, you will have my help, and the help of all those who will follow me.”

To this Thorin nodded again, but he truly took the words to heart. It was not often the words of an elf did this to a dwarf, and even Dwalin felt it. With that last remark, Legolas rode back to Dale as fast as his horse would take him.

Dwalin climbed atop the horse, extending a hand to Thorin. They rode back down towards Erebor with a heavy sense of dread, despite having saved Fíli. It felt now as if all their work to save him had been for naught, as they’d saved one only to lose the other. _Not lost,_ Thorin told himself, _not lost._ Kíli may be captive, but he was yet in better shape than Fíli. Thorin hadn’t even looked at his arm; there’d been no time. He should have felt some sort of satisfaction at having saved one of them, but all he felt was guilt at having abandoned his youngest.

“I don’t trust elves,” Dwalin said, breaking Thorin from his thoughts. 

“No more than I do,” he replied.

“Aye, but for some reason, Thorin, I know the lad’s going to be alright.”

The words almost made him feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer - not beta'd. Leave me a comment with any errors :)


	2. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bits of Sindarin and Khuzdul scattered throughout - translations in the end notes :) I'm better at Sindar translations than Khuzdul, but they're done as well as I could research.

The fighting ceased some hours after Thorin and Dwalin arrived back on the field, and along with the last of the orcs fell a silence the likes of which Thorin had not heard since what had fallen after the battle of Azanulbizar. It was a sound he’d hoped not to hear again as long as he lived.

Those left standing with any amount of strength remaining set about retrieving their dead. The Elves, those who hadn’t opted to stay in Dale tending the wounded, began the journey back to Mirkwood with their fallen kin for proper burial. The Men too were to be buried, and Bard was kept busy seeking out every able-bodied person in Dale to help with the task. Dwarves, on the other hand, will only bury their dead encased in stone, so as to return from whence they were borne. But their dead numbered so great this day that Thorin briefly wondered if it was comparable to Moria. The dwarves who’d been present there too only thought the same, and turned then to their King for guidance.

The pyres that had burned in Azanulbizar would have been considered barbaric by any good-willed race, dwarves included, but it was on that day that funeral pyres were heightened to a level of true honour in their eyes. For even now, a dwarf will refer to a friend who’d perished at Moria as having been a “burned dwarf”, quite proudly. It was a sad honour, but a dear one. It was decided then, by Thorin and Dáin and Balin, that their dead would be burned at dusk as they were at Khazad-dûm.

The night sky was soon painted red with flame as the hundreds of pyres burned without abandon, and such was the sight which Fíli watched mournfully from a window above a small bed in Dale. He’d been roused first by the singing; the low, unmistakable voices of his kin rumbling through the valley beyond Erebor and into Dale. As he’d slowly come to, he’d begun to recognize the songs they sung as those he’d heard his uncle and mother sing each year, in remembrance of his fallen family at the hands of the Pale Orc. That was around when the nerves in his arm began to wake as well, a slow-building discomfort that grew more painful by the second.

He moved to sit up, but forgetting his injury, put quite a bit of weight on his right arm as he pushed himself up. A strangled yelp escaped his throat, just barely, before he had the presence of mind to bite down on his knuckle. The pain was incomparable to anything he’d felt before – it was as if someone had plunged a stake through his forearm, and was twisting it around with every move. He stayed there for a minute or so, half waiting for the pain to dull enough to think, half because the effort of sitting up had made him quite faint. Despite this, his thoughts revolved only around where he was, and _why_ he was not standing now beside his brother and Thorin, mourning his people.

_And,_ he wondered as he glanced around the room, who these people were. He was lying on the last bed in a line of thirty or so (and he realized now that the “bed” was only a couple of blankets atop a table). They were in some sort of hall, a banquet hall, perhaps, by the faded décor. He could see the carpet that rolled towards the exit was torn away at the very end, blackened with soot – and it sunk in then that this must be Dale. _Of course this is Dale, _he thought, looking out the window again at Erebor. His thoughts were cut off by a pained cry coming from his right, and his head snapped around to see a young woman lying on a similar table-bed, writhing in pain as a red-haired elf held her down.__

____

There were people all around, actually, but all quite busy, and none had yet noticed Fíli. He listened in to the dull commotion as wounds were tended and prayers murmured. He could even hear the whispering of elven healers, and his mind wandered briefly to Kíli in Laketown. They had tried every method under the sun, both dwarven as well as those of Men, but nothing had calmed his brother’s desperate state until the Elf-maid had come along, saving his life. _Come to think of it…_ Fíli flicked his gaze back towards the woman who’d cried out, but the elf by her side had gone. _Probably wasn’t her, anyway,_ he decided.

____

With his mind on Kíli he started to recall, slowly, the events of that morning – though truthfully, Fíli wasn’t entirely sure how many mornings ago it had been. He could remember clear as day the feeling of Azog’s brutish hands crushing the armor into his shoulder, and even if he couldn’t, the marred purple bruising across his chest and back were reminder enough. He could still hear the guttural scream that near deafened him, feel the slight relief when the grip on his shoulder released, but it all grew hazy past there. Still, there was something nagging at him…

____

_No._ The blood drained from his face. _No, it can’t be,_ he thought, frantically, _they couldn’t have._ The dread crept up slowly as it dawned on him that he had not been alone when the watchtower was stormed. Panicking, he scanned the room for any sign of his brother – if they were both injured, they’d both have been brought here, right? Even if Kíli was fine, there was no way he’d have left Fíli’s side, of that he was sure. When it became clear that his brother was nowhere to be seen, Fíli turned his gaze back to the pyres with renewed fear; for all he knew, he was sitting here oblivious while Kíli burned. He had to leave.

____

Fíli scrambled off the bed, realizing once his feet hit the floor that he had only his breeches on. He looked around for his clothes, but being upright made him very dizzy, and he had a job just bringing the room to focus. No matter, he could go without clothes. He took a very wobbly step, and another, and for a second, the dizziness almost went away. He noticed the red-haired elf approaching, and smiled. _Kili was right, she isn’t half bad looking,_ he thought. _When did elves become attractive? And when did the floor get so…_

____

As head collided with ground, so ended the prince’s quest to the mountain.

____

  


____

The great dwarf pyres were a sight to be seen against the silhouette of the Lonely Mountain. They were even greater up close, though the atmosphere of the evening was not one of awe, or wonder. There was a stifling air of grief in both the voices and faces of the dwarves who stood shoulder to shoulder encircling the fires, singing their kin to eternal sleep.

____

Their mourning would go on into the night until the fires died out to naught more than ash. Thorin felt obligated to stay, as it was the King’s duty to be with his people through such toil, but the conflict of royal versus familial duty was gnawing away at his mind. He had not seen Fíli since the Elf prince had ridden away with him that morning, and as it stood, either nephew could be alive or dead and he’d be none the wiser. It was merely salt in the wound that he stood between Balin and Dwalin; fine company, and two of his oldest friends, but they were not the two dwarves who should have been flanking the King. Of this all three were painfully aware.

____

It had already been decided that a small group would leave for Moria the next day, once they’d slept enough so as not to collapse where they stood. Thorin and Dwalin rounded up the remaining nine, and of those still strong enough for such a journey, they’d settled on a company of seven: Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, Óin, and Nori. Some, namely Balin, had wanted more time to plan, but at Thorin’s insistence they agreed to leave as early in the morning as possible. There would be time to plan on the road, and as far as time went, there was not a lot to be had. They were a day behind Azog’s troops as it stood – if the orcs made it to Moria before they did, they could kiss any chance of recovering Kíli goodbye. The halls of Khazad-dûm were a maze with which Thorin was wholly unfamiliar, and those who dwelled within were only waiting for him to arrive.

____

As the fires raged and the sky grew darker, Thorin found it increasingly difficult to ignore the thought of Fíli in Dale, what kinds of pain he was suffering, if he had even lived through the trip. Half of him wanted not even to check, but he knew that wasn’t an option. To go for weeks without knowing if his nephew was alive or dead was arguably worse than _knowing_ he was dead. Fíli was alive, he had to be. He was descended from Durin, there was no picking the lad off that easily. Thorin made up his mind and broke away from the fires, but Dwalin caught his arm at the last second.

____

“Heading off?” he asked. “We all should, if we want to be fit fer the morning.”

____

Thorin frowned. “I’d stand here happily should the flames rage for a week, but there are things I need attend to before we leave,” he said, looking towards Dale. “Namely, Fíli.”

____

“Aye, give him my best,” Dwalin replied.

____

“That I will. Balin, Dwalin,” he gestured, “I bid you retire early, should you like to pass the message on to the rest. I need you all at your best tomorrow.”

____

Balin nodded, smiling sadly. “The thought’s much appreciated, but here we stay ‘til the fire dies.”

____

“As I knew you would.” Thorin explained the morning’s plan to the two – they were to head to the fork in the old road down from Dale, at dawn, where Thorin would meet up with them. This was not the laden quest from Ered Luin to Erebor – time was not on their side, and they’d have to travel lightly and swiftly to beat the beasts to Moria. The brothers voiced their agreement, and it was settled; Thorin took his leave of them, and headed for the mountain.

____

“And Thorin?” Balin called after him. He turned; eyebrow raised.

____

“Even if he’s well, you’re aware that Fíli has to stay behind, in your place,” Balin explained, wringing his hands. “I sense he might have a wee problem with that.”

____

“Problem or not, he’ll be staying behind,” Thorin said, “though I don’t imagine he’s fit enough yet to stand, let alone rule a kingdom. I had considered asking Dáin to take my place, until our return.”

____

Balin grimaced. “Now, I’ve got no problem with Dáin, but he’s got his own kingdom to run. It’ll be a fine plan if he agrees, but what if he doesn’t?”

____

“Not to hop on yer back,” Dwalin added, “but I hav’ta agree you’ve not thought this out.”

____

“Then perhaps you’d suggest we abandon Kíli to the depths of Moria?” Thorin snapped, trying to keep his voice below the singing. “All for the sake of a throne? Are you aware that once they reach Khazad-dûm, he is as good as _dead?”_

____

Balin stood his ground. “You know better than any that we’d imply no such thing, Thorin Oakenshield. I simply mean to ask who you plan to have run the kingdom you’ve fought so long to reclaim.”

____

“I am the King of Erebor whether I sit on the throne or reside in Ered Luin,” he explained after a deep breath. “There are plenty here who will protect that fact until my return.”

____

“You forget that you’ve not left on good terms with the Elves nor the Men of Laketown,” Balin countered. “They will be wanting their reward, and might see fit to take it in your absence, by any means necessary.”

____

“That is a wrong I plan to right, tonight. Arrangements will be made with the bowman, whom I’ve found at the very least to be reasonable, despite his impersonality. I will talk with Dáin as well tonight, before riding to Dale. Should he agree, we’ll have no worries. In any other event, it will be sorted by morning.”

____

Balin felt uneasy as he watched Thorin walk away, but left it at that. His nonchalance on the subject was an improvement from dragon sickness, at the very least.

____

  


____

Thorin found Dáin some minutes later, and they walked now away from the pyres towards the gates of Erebor. It was a short, unremarkable conversation, filled with none of their usual jests and lighthearted jabs at one another. It was a request, from King to King, one that Dáin graciously accepted (to Thorin’s relief) and wished his company a safe and successful journey. Dáin was a staunch ruler, and harbored slight regret at not accompanying Thorin to reclaim the Lonely Mountain. Thus, he felt it his duty now to make up for past errors, so the dwarf was only too happy to help with his cousin’s endeavor to save the young prince.

____

“Bard the Bowman of Laketown, the Dragon-Slayer, is to receive a fourteenth of the gold and silver, along with the Emeralds of Girion,” Thorin explained. “I’m travelling now to Dale to see that arranged. Should the Elves of Mirkwood come demanding a share…” He trailed off then, thinking of the elf prince who’d swung in at exactly the right moment, saving Fíli’s life – perhaps all their lives, for Fíli’s dead weight had cost them their head start retreating from the orcs.

____

“You may give to them the White Gems of Lasgalen,” Thorin decided, “but only if they come looking. They’ve done nothing to warrant any greater reward. Bard, on the other hand, I respectfully ask that he is not made to seek what he’s owed. His people have suffered greatly.”

____

“That sounds about proper,” Dáin replied. “I’ll see it done, cousin. And I’ll see you when you return, with the young prince, I hope.”

____

Thorin nearly smiled at that, but his face remained grim. _“Dolzehk menu, irak’nadad.”_

____

Dáin grabbed Thorin by the neck pressed their foreheads together. When he pulled away, Thorin kept his hand on Dáin’s shoulder, but found himself nearly lost for words.

____

“Thorin?”

____

“I… I am sorry,” he started slowly.

____

“Sorry about what?” was Dáin’s smiling reply.

____

“You lost far more of your own today than I did mine,” he explained, pausing for a moment to consider. “I would have seen them all buried under the mountain, you know. You came to our aid without falter, even through those first hours when we did not return the favor.”

____

At this Dáin gave a weak chuckle, but there was an unshakable sadness about the look on his face. He looked away for a moment, towards the pyres and the myriad of dwarves surrounding them.

____

“I know you would,” he said, finally. “We gave them what we could, with what we had. Those who fall in battle need not rest in stone to be welcomed by Mahal.”

____

  


____

It was getting late by the time Thorin arrived at the borders of Dale, having taken the time to get a pack together for the morning’s trip. He dismounted his horse before quite reaching the city limits, and walked now towards two very disheveled, very-exhausted looking men, quietly chatting with each other as they leaned against the stone walls. One saw Thorin approaching and quickly straightened, clearing his throat at the other. It was then Thorin realized, with no small degree of judgement, that they were the city guards.

____

“Evening,” one said, recognizing him as one of the dwarves from Laketown not long before, but which one, he couldn’t be sure.

____

“Good evening,” Thorin replied, and made to brush past the two into the city, but was stopped as the opposite guard moved to stand in front of him.

____

“Wait, wait,” he said, “you can’t just be marchin’ on in here – it’s the middle of the night, and you’re no man of Laketown.”

____

Thorin nearly managed to conceal the look of disgust on his face, but the sentiment was clear to the guard.

____

“I beg your pardon,” he continued, “but I’m under orders to guard the town from strange folk, and you,” he gestured towards Thorin, “are a stranger.”

____

The first guard, who’d been silently scrutinizing Thorin’s face the whole time, suddenly paled as he realized who stood before them. This was no ordinary dwarf – this was their King.

____

“Eldon, hold on,” the first guard said to the other, feeling suddenly very sheepish. “We simply mean to ask your business, is all, we don’t mean any-”

____

“I beg _your_ pardon, _men of Laketown,” _Thorin growled, cutting him off. “I am Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, and my business is my own. Now, know you where I may find Bard the Bowman?”__

______ _ _

Both guards looked at each other for an answer, but neither really knew. Thorin grew impatient.

______ _ _

“Before the sun rises,” he jabbed.

______ _ _

“I wouldn’t be, ah, completely sure, to tell the truth,” the first guard stammered. “He’s been buzzing around all day doing all kinds, I don’t think I’ve seen him for longer than a few minutes in any one place, Mr. Thorin- _King,_ King Thorin.”

______ _ _

“Cattle would be of more use to me,” Thorin grumbled, and he pushed past the guards into the city. The one called Eldon nearly followed him, but was quickly pulled back by his friend, who knew better than to pester a King.

______ _ _

However, having faintly heard the commotion, and then not-so-faintly caught his own name, Bard stood waiting just beyond the city gates, sporting what might have classified as a smirk on his normally stern visage.

______ _ _

“So the King emerges from his mountain,” he stated, walking up to meet Thorin. “Tell me, have you come to your senses yet?”

______ _ _

“I have more pressing matters right now than business dealings,” Thorin stated. “However, rest assured I don’t plan on leaving before we are settled.”

______ _ _

Bard cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so…? Well, might I ask then what’s more important to you than the money to feed and house my people?” There was a sharpness to his tone, though he could hardly be blamed for it.

______ _ _

“Do not doubt me, Bard,” Thorin responded. “I make promises only when I intend to keep them. My words at Erebor… they were not my own, and I’ll ask you to pry no further into the matter.”

______ _ _

Bard did not move to reply, but seemed mildly satisfied by the explanation, for now.

______ _ _

“My nephew Fíli was brought here this morning, with the Elf prince. I wondered if you might point me in his direction.”

______ _ _

Bard frowned. “I’ve seen plenty of elves through here today, but dwarves?” He shook his head. “Now, that’s not to say he’s not here, it’s just a matter of where. My best guess if he’s a casualty would be the town hall – it’s where we brought all our wounded. But I’ve just come from there, and I didn’t notice any dwarves.”

______ _ _

“Lead the way.”

______ _ _

  


______ _ _

Bard’s involvement with dwarves had been minimal before the events of the past week, and was of the assumption that they were all old, and black or grey of hair. With the stress of the dragon attack he’d all but forgotten what any of Oakenshield’s company had looked like, save the dwarf himself. So, when Thorin had blown past him into the building towards the blond tucked away in the back, it made sense why he hadn’t noticed him the first-time round. He took a seat by the door, having not sat all day, and mulled over Thorin’s words about promises.

______ _ _

Thorin shoved through the hustle-bustle of men and elves and made his way to the furthest corner of the hall, where he’d eyed Fíli as soon as he’d walked through the door. He was lying on his back, out like a light. Thorin crossed towards the table in the center of the room and dragged a chair back to his bedside.

______ _ _

“Fíli,” he whispered, gently shaking him by the shoulder. “Fíli, can you hear me?”

______ _ _

The young dwarf’s eyelids seemed to flutter for a moment, and his head turned slightly towards his uncle, but he gave no real response. At that moment a girl walked past, and Thorin flagged her down.

______ _ _

“You,” he said, “were you here this morning, by any chance?” To his disappointment, she shook her head.

______ _ _

“Have you any idea where the Elf prince might be, then?”

______ _ _

She shook her head again. “No, but if you’re asking about him,” she gestured towards Fíli, “I did see an elf at his side about an hour ago. I can get her for you?”

______ _ _

“No, that’ll be…” Thorin began instinctively, but had to once again reconsider his stance on elves for the third time that day. “Yes,” he sighed, “please.”

______ _ _

The girl bounded off back towards the entrance, where two elves were talking very closely with one another. Thorin recognized one as the female warrior from Mirkwood, the one who’d chased them down the river along with the prince. She had also saved his nephew’s life, he recalled, and his expression started to soften as she quickly strode to where Thorin sat beside Fíli. The opposite happened for her, Thorin noticed, as she recognized who sat before her.

______ _ _

“King Thorin Oakenshield,” she said greeting him. “I seem not to be able to rid myself of you and your family.”

______ _ _

“Spare me the pleasantries,” Thorin replied. His hand still rested on Fíli’s shoulder. “I just want to know if he’s alright.”

______ _ _

“He was quite alright earlier when he decided to up and walk out of here,” she said. “He didn’t make it very far. Had to waste more resources then on his lovely head wound.” Thorin noticed now the rather large bandage on Fíli’s head, having previously assumed it was from the battle, and felt the rage begin to bubble.

______ _ _

“He tried to leave, and you struck him?” he growled.

______ _ _

“He tried to leave and he _fainted,_ Thorin, my – do you people think of nothing beyond violence?” She sounded exasperated. “He’s been in and out of consciousness since he was brought here, and more out than in since his little stunt. But you’re free to remove him from our care, if you feel so threatened,” she added sharply.

______ _ _

The elf had raised her voice and it roused Fíli ever so slightly. He made a small noise and his fingers twitched, but even as his uncle shook him a few more times, calling his name, it seemed the moment had passed. Thorin relaxed, and hung his head slightly. “I apologize,” he started. “I have not trusted Elves since the day that Smaug took up residence in our home… but I have only you and your race to thank for the lives of my nephews. Neither would still be here without your skill.” He looked up at her then, meeting her kind gaze with his own.

______ _ _

“You have my understanding and forgiveness,” she smiled. “I only wish I could have done more for him.”

______ _ _

Thorin paled. “More?”

______ _ _

“His arm,” she began, and Thorin’s eyes moved then to the thick binding on Fíli’s forearm. “Whatever went through it shredded the muscle, and our resources here are quite limited. We can’t even know what nerve damage he might’ve sustained until he’s coherent.”

______ _ _

“Right,” Thorin muttered. “What is the best outcome, then?”

______ _ _

She grimaced. “Dwarves are tougher than men, that much I know. Still, I imagine it’ll be a fortnight or more before he’s picking up a sword. His arm aside, he might walk out of here as soon as he’s had a proper night’s rest.”

______ _ _

“And that’s the best.”

______ _ _

“Yes, we can hope.” She moved now closer to Fíli’s side, noticing his bandage had shifted. She fixed it quietly as Thorin stared on.

______ _ _

“Need I ask the worst?”

______ _ _

_“The worst_ for some would not be considered too bad, but you are craftsmen, warriors, and I imagine a life sentence in an Elven dungeon would sound more appealing to you.”

______ _ _

Thorin shut his eyes, and let out the breath he realized he’d been holding. “Then you may as well get it over with,” he sighed.

______ _ _

“We couldn’t fix the muscle, not enough. He may never be able to control his hand again, and if that’s the case, he can say goodbye to hammers, swords, axes… everything. But none of that will matter if his nerves don’t heal, because the pain will plague him as long as he lives. I’ve known some who were never able to recover from that kind of damage, and chose to take the limb off entirely.”

______ _ _

“No,” he blurted out. “No, that won’t happen. He’s stronger than most, always has been. He’ll be back on his feet in no time.” Thorin wasn’t entirely sure who he was convincing, but he believed it himself.

______ _ _

“His brother should have been dead by the time I found them,” she said. “If he has half the strength of Kíli, he’ll be fine.”

______ _ _

She was nearly cut off as there was a cry from across the room. _“Tauriel, mas nadil?”_ She snapped her head up in the direction of the voice. _“Pidon’a noeg, tolon-im!”_ she quickly called back, and walked back around the table where Fíli lie.

______ _ _

“I have to go, but I truly believe he will be okay. Have faith.” She left the two of them then, and despite the general hum of the people working around him, it now felt very quiet. It wasn’t very often he spent time with either of his nephews that he wasn’t getting his ear talked off, but what he wouldn’t give now to hear their voices.

______ _ _

Thorin could see Erebor through the window beside Fíli’s bed, along with the many slowly-dying fires that surrounded it. He imagined Fíli waking up and seeing the pyres, back when they were burning higher than any building in Dale, and it started to make sense why he’d tried to leave. That, or he was just being Fíli – either option was equally likely. Thorin noticed a few hairs stuck in the bandage on Fíli’s forehead, and moved the hand from his shoulder to delicately pull them out. He realized there were a few more than he’d thought and accidentally tugged a bit too hard, eliciting a weak groan from the dwarf.

______ _ _

“Fíli?” Thorin asked, hopeful. Fíli slowly blinked his eyes open. He gave a low hum as Thorin carded his fingers through his nephew’s hair, willing him to wake up.

______ _ _

“Fíli,” he said with a little more force, “come on, now, I’m here.” Fíli’s hand, the uninjured one, came slowly up to feel his throbbing forehead. A slightly panicked expression crossed his face, his eyes darting this way and that, but they soon found Thorin sitting beside him. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face, though it made his head ache something fierce.

______ _ _

“Uncle,” he breathed. His throat was so raw from the battle, the words nearly caught in his throat. He moved his head slightly, looking past Thorin, searching. “Where’s Kíli?” he asked.

______ _ _

Thorin let his face fall. Of course that would be the first question from the boy’s mouth, he’d been stupid to think otherwise. He’d hoped it might’ve taken him a minute to clue in, at the very least, but as per usual, Fíli’s first instinct was to protect Kíli. Always the elder brother. Alarmed by his uncle’s hesitation, Fíli snapped awake and shrugged Thorin’s hand away. He tried to sit up, but winced as he once again put weight on his bad arm.

______ _ _

“Fíli, don’t-” Thorin tried.

______ _ _

“Never mind it – where is he, Thorin, where is my brother?” He leaned up now on one elbow, searching Thorin’s face for any indication at all, but the dwarf’s expression was stone cold. “He’s not,” he started, swallowing, “please tell me he’s not-”

______ _ _

“No, he’s not dead,” Thorin interrupted. “Not yet, at least.” Fíli tensed. Whatever relief had come with the first part of the phrase was immediately dispelled.

______ _ _

“Not yet,” he repeated, incredulous, “what do you mean, _not yet,_ where is he?”

______ _ _

“He was taken prisoner, by Azog.” Fíli looked horrified, but Thorin continued. “We journey south at first light; I hope to travel through the Brown Lands and beat them to Moria. I fear the worst should they arrive before we do.”

______ _ _

Fíli stared ahead, fixating on the table across the room. “How did it happen?” he asked, though it was more of a demand.

______ _ _

“I ordered your brother to get both of you to safety. You were bleeding out. He fled with you down the southern staircase while Dwalin and I held the beasts off, but Bolg had been waiting.” He decided to skip over the part where he’d essentially sacrificed Kíli to save his brother, but nothing went over Fíli’s head that easily.

______ _ _

“Why am I not dead, then? Orcs are not merciful creatures, Uncle, and I have my doubts they would have spared a son of Durin,” he spat.

______ _ _

“They thought you dead already, as did I-”

______ _ _

“That is a lie and you know it!” he shouted, momentarily silencing the room. Thorin snapped his head around as if to say, ‘mind your own,’ and the noise slowly began to generate once more. He turned back towards Fíli with the unmistakable glint of regret in his eyes.

______ _ _

“It was his capture, or the death of both of you. It does not take a strategist to know the better option, Fíli.”

______ _ _

“You let him go,” he murmured. Fíli’s expression was one of utter betrayal, and Thorin felt it as clearly as a slap to the face.

______ _ _

“I saved you both,” he corrected. “There was no other way. You’re not daft, Fíli, you know I would not lie to you, nor would I ever abandon either one of you unless I had to.”

______ _ _

Fíli faltered and sank back down onto the table, defeated. He knew Thorin was right, but the anger came from his own inability to save his brother. He’d been useless, and for what reason? A little cut on his arm, and because of that, he’d slowed Kíli down, gotten him captured. If he’d been able to fend for himself, he wouldn’t have had to have his _little brother_ defending him. It was all his own fault.

______ _ _

“Fíli?” Thorin prodded, after the dwarf had been silent for quite some time. He snapped out of his thoughts as a brighter demeanor spread across his face.

______ _ _

“Well, come on then,” he said, sitting himself up with a muffled wince. “We should return to the mountain now and prepare, if we leave at dawn.” Thorin reached a hand out to his nephew’s shoulder, lightly guiding him back down.

______ _ _

“We've already prepared, Fíli. You won’t be coming.”

______ _ _

His declaration was met with a laugh as Fíli pushed his uncle’s hand aside.

______ _ _

“What do you mean, ‘I’m not coming,’ Uncle, of course I am.” Even through his rebuttal Fíli couldn’t help the pained sounds as every movement sent a shockwave up his arm into his neck. It wasn’t helping his case.

______ _ _

“You must think me mad,” Thorin proclaimed. “You were right there as I had this exact conversation with your brother, and yet you fight me still – no, you will stay here and recover with the rest.”

______ _ _

Fíli slouched, but the look on his face remained firm. “So that is it, then?”

______ _ _

“I know it pains you, _nidayith-”_

______ _ _

“Do not call me that,” Fíli snapped, “not now. Not after trading my brother’s freedom like some, like he was a bargaining chip.” To that Thorin did not respond, which only served to further Fíli’s anger, lightheaded as he was.

______ _ _

“You would have me sit here, and do _nothing_ while my brother suffers because of your own poor judgement! You would have me stay behind and twiddle my thumbs, for what, my own safety? It was your concern for _my safety_ that got him taken in the first place! What of his safety?” Fíli berated his uncle, desperate for some kind of response, but Thorin remained expressionless through his nephew’s tirade.

______ _ _

“I am my brother’s keeper,” he continued, “words from _your_ own mouth that I have heard since he was born – I am responsible for him, I will not stay behind and wait while he is tortured in your name!”

______ _ _

“You are injured, Fíli,” Thorin replied calmly. “You cannot hold a knife, let alone a sword.”

______ _ _

“I will not stay behind,” he repeated. “You deprive me of retribution though you did NOTHING to save him, you raised not so much as a finger to stop-”

______ _ _

_“And if I had he’d be burning with the rest of our dead!”_ Thorin roared. Both of them glanced now out the window, and a twinge of pain shot through Thorin’s heart at the sight.

______ _ _

“I am aware you would see Erebor fall again before letting him die at the hands of Azog if you could help it,” said Thorin, sitting back. “Do not insult me with the implication that I do not share your sentiments. He is my family too, Fíli. _Irakdashatê.”_

______ _ _

“Thorin…” Fíli had settled down, mostly due to his own head spinning from having exerted himself yelling. _“Irak’adad,_ you cannot take this away from me. I would see him killed, by my own hand for every mark that they put on him.”

______ _ _

Thorin smiled sadly, which turned into a grimace as he reached out and grabbed Fíli’s injured arm faster than the younger could pull it away. Fíli yet out a painful yell, trying to pull away, but Thorin’s grip held fast. The spectacle garnered quite a few stares from the rest of the room, but the majority recognized the King Under the Mountain, and knew better than to intervene. The pain was beginning to cross the threshold of agony before Thorin released him, finally. Fíli crumpled over his arm, his breaths coming in pants as his heartbeat throbbed in his ears. It was over, he knew, as he heard his uncle’s voice.

______ _ _

“You are not coming, Fíli. You are as much use now as your brother was, delirious from poison. You will stay behind and heal, for I have no doubt Kíli will need your strength when we return.” He extended a comforting hand to Fíli’s shoulder, but the dwarf slapped it away.

______ _ _

_“Ma tûmbaz,”_ he gritted, still reeling from the pain radiating through his arm. He did not look up at his uncle, instead he remained with his head bowed trying to dispel the tears that had begun to brim when Thorin had grabbed him. “When do you think – _agh,_ – when do you think you’ll return?”

______ _ _

He rubbed a hand across his forehead, thinking. “Even if we push our ponies to their limits,” he stated, “the journey to Khazad-dûm is a fortnight, if not more. Doubly so to make it back to the mountain.” Fíli’s face fell.

______ _ _

“The snow will have started then,” he said. “It won’t be an easy trip.”

______ _ _

“I hardly counted on it being easy. You know not how many times I’ve pictured it going wrong.”

______ _ _

“If he is lost, Uncle, I… I really don’t think, I don’t…” Fíli trailed off as his emotions began to rise, and he raised a hand to tangle in his hair. Thorin could say nothing to alleviate his distress, as the exact same feeling was flooding his own mind at the thought of it.

______ _ _

“Fíli, I have… I have other things I need attend to before we go,” he explained, looking back towards the center of the room where Bard was now busying himself with the wounded.

______ _ _

“Please, no, wait,” Fíli sputtered. “At least bring me back to Erebor with you.”

______ _ _

“I’m not going to the mountain tonight. I’ll stay ‘til morning here with you, and you’ll stay after I’ve gone – I know here you’ll be looked after.” This seemed to calm him down a bit, to Thorin’s relief. “I’ll be back later tonight, once I’ve set things straight with Bard and his people.”

______ _ _

“I’m glad,” Fíli replied. “I worried about you in the mountain. We all did.” There shone a sadness in his eyes, recalling how Kíli, youngest and boldest, was the only one brave enough to stand up their uncle. It had made him proud beyond measure.

______ _ _

“I know,” was Thorin’s only reply, and he left Fíli alone then as he found Bard within the crowd.

______ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 03/10: amended Thorin's decision about the division of treasure between the Elves and Bard, giving the elves instead the Gems of Lasgalen and Bard the emeralds - thought it made a bit more sense that way.
> 
> Sindarin:  
> Mas nadil? - Where are (you)?  
> Pidon'a noeg, tolon-im - Speaking with (the) dwarves, I'm coming
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> Dolzehk menu - Thank you  
> Irak'nadad - Cousin  
> Nidayith - Young one (fatherly pet name)  
> Irakdashat - Nephew, the suffix -ê denotes first-person possessive so "My nephew"  
> Irak'adad - Uncle  
> Ma tûmbaz - Don't touch me


End file.
